"I am here, Mr. Graeme," she cried, and he came plunging down to her through the dripping gorse and bracken.
"Thank God!" he said fervently. "Why ever did you move?"
"I have not stirred."
"I must have got wrong. It is blinding. It will be safest to wait here, I think. Will you hold on to my arm?"
And as she slipped her hand through it she felt it trembling—the arm that had always been so strong and steadfast in her service—and she knew that this too was for her.
"Where is Hennie?" she asked.
"She's all right. I made her sit down among the bushes and told her she'd surely get smashed if she moved."
It was a good half-hour before the cloud drew off and they saw Guernsey, Herm, and Jethou sparkling in the sun once more.
Then they crossed the narrow path over the neck, and Margaret was glad they had not attempted it in the fog.
They picked up Miss Penny, damp but cheerful, and went home. For everything was dripping, and the pleasures of camping out were over for that day, but there were fires about that all the fogs that ever had been could not begin to extinguish.